She felt a moment’s uncertainty. “I really shouldn’t spend more than one more evening on this.”
“Two more should do it, or possibly one long one.” He paused. “May I walk you home?”
“I . . . Yes, that would be all right.”
Without speaking, he helped her on with her coat, then pulled on his own and they left. The hall and stairwell were somehow dreamlike, pregnant with—something. The place seemed deserted except for them, their footsteps surprisingly loud, the solitude subtly electric. He couldn’t help thinking about sex on a desk with her. Her physical attraction went beyond explanation.
Neither spoke till they were outside walking. The night was mild, for the season and elevation—perhaps 15 degrees Fahrenheit, and still. The sky was clear and deep, the stars incredible. Duke put a gentle, gloved hand on her arm, stopping her. “Look,” he said, pointing upward. “In a sky like that, you can see why it’s called the Milky Way.”
She nodded. “It’s beautiful.”
“My Norwegian grandmother called it Vintergata, said it meant the winter road. I thought of the Norse gods traveling it on sleighs across the sky.” He paused. “Did you ever watch the northern lights when you were a girl?”
“Oh yes! From our summer place on Lake Ontario. There wasn’t any city glow there, and we’d see them fairly often. I’d stand outside till I was shivering uncontrollably, it was so hard to stop watching.”
He nodded. “My parents had a summer cottage on a small lake in northern Wisconsin. When there were northern lights, I’d row alone out to the middle and watch. It was magical.”
When they started walking again, he took her gloved hand in his for a moment, then let go, as if realizing what he’d done. They were in front of her house within three or four minutes.
“I really enjoyed our evening,” he said. “You’re a—very nice person, Lee. It was a privilege to get to know you so well. I’ll tell you what: You call me when you see an opportunity for our next talk.”
He did grin then, and this time she found it not aggressive at all. “If I don’t hear within a couple of weeks, I’ll check with you at your office.”
“Of course,” she said.
He stepped away from her, backwards, gave a small salute, then turned and strode off down the sidewalk, Lee staring after him. Duke Cochran was a very attractive man, and nice after all. Slowly she turned and walked to the house.
It was the first time since she’d known Ben that she’d even for a moment thought of sex with anyone else.
34
Thomas Corkery arrived at the Bentham Avenue Unitarian Church early enough for a seat in a pew very near the rear. While the congregation gradually filled the seats, the organ played music unfamiliar to him. Before long the place was packed, with people standing in the outer aisles. The fire warden, Corkery told himself, would be unhappy when he learned of it. As he soon would; the climax assured it.
Television cameramen stood in a back corner and at both sides in front, as well as in a balcony overlooking the pulpit. They have no idea, he told himself, what a spectacle they’re in for.
He looked forward to the service with curiosity. The pastor wore black jeans and a thick baggy sweater, and there were no kneelers for the praying. If, in fact, these people prayed. When the service began, there was little he identified with. No altar boys, nor any other celebrants than the pastor, the choir in its loft, and the organist at her keyboard. When the congregation stood to sing, he stood too, his hymnal open to the indicated page, but no sound issued from his lips.
Ngunda Aran sat a bit to the pastor’s right, standing when the congregation stood, but otherwise taking no part in the service, such as it was. There was a prayer, a reading and a unison reading—neither from Scripture—and announcements. Then, accompanied by organ music, the ushers passed the plates; that part Corkery found familiar. Afterward another unfamiliar hymn was sung, and the pastor introduced Ngunda Aran.